


Your Typical Bookshop Meet-Cute

by mayatheyellowbee



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, First Meetings, Humor, Jaskier's Attempts at Flirting, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayatheyellowbee/pseuds/mayatheyellowbee
Summary: Jaskier, bookshop employee and bisexual disaster, meets Geralt Rivia, grumpy introvert and famous horror writer.It goes as well as you can imagine.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 234





	Your Typical Bookshop Meet-Cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biancarambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biancarambles/gifts).



> This is a silly little fic for my friend [biancarambles'](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biancarambles/pseuds/biancarambles) birthday. We haven't known each other for a long time but I am very grateful we met.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Jaskier arrives at work that morning, just late enough for his boss to inevitably remark about it, he does not expect the meters-long queue waiting outside the bookshop. 

It is a pretty popular place, as Yennefer had put a lot of effort into making it as instagrammable as possible to appeal to the younger generations, but there’s never been a _ queue _ at the opening hour. Jaskier frowns, his tea spilling over the edge of his ecocup, scalding his cold hands, but he barely notices the burn.

Yennefer is standing behind the glass door, a displeased downturn to her mouth and her fingers drumming against her crossed arms in such a way Jaskier knows he’s in trouble. He takes a deep breath before entering the shop, the two teenage girls at the beginning of the queue giving him a sympathetic look as he does.

“You’re late” Yennefer greets him with a death glare that doesn’t annihilate Jaskier on the spot only because he had years to build immunity.

“Yes I um- I had an accident this morning with um… the post… man?” Jaskier ends lamely as Yennefer’s eyes turn even deadlier.

“Essi told me you went to a club together last night. And that you went home with someone at four in the morning.”

“I’m sorry Yennefer, really, I-”

She puts a hand up, interrupting him very effectively. He even shrinks on himself a little for good measure.

“Stop the bullshit. This is not the first time it has happened and I know it won’t be the last but I don’t care. But I told you I needed you early today.”

“Um, yeah, about that… I don’t really remember why…”

The bookshop owner rolls her dark eyes with exasperation.

“I swear, you deserve to be fired sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, but you have such a kind heart…”

“No. I just don’t want to do the paperwork, that’s all. Anyway. We’ve got Geralt Rivia signing his new book here. His manager owes me a favor so he’ll be here today and tomorrow, but everyone is talking about him online so it’s going to be busy. Go put some fresh water on your face, you reek of bad sex and hangover, and then go to the thriller and horror section to install his desk. You’re lucky he hasn’t arrived yet, or his manager would already be a fucking pain in the ass.” Yennefer mutters, and Jaskier knows he’s been dismissed. 

After a detour to the toilet to follow Yennefer’s order and refresh himself with a splash of water and a subtle application of concealer under his eyes, Jaskier heads to the underground floor, where a few couches have been moved to clear a space. A bunch of promotion signs with a dark background and an hilariously awkward picture of a handsome but grumpy looking man in his thirties are propped against one of the rickety folding tables they use for this kind of events.

Jaskier finishes setting up the signing area just as a smartly dressed redhead woman skips down the stairs, gives the room an assessing glance, and, apparently satisfied, finally notices him and smiles, offering her hand to shake.

“Hi, I’m Triss Merigold, Geralt Rivia’s manager. Thank you for making the preparations, it’s perfect.”

“My pleasure, really” Jaskier doesn’t hold back the flirting in his voice as he smiles back. Triss Merigold is a beautiful woman after all, and he is but a mere horny bisexual. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“There is, actually. Geralt is not the most, um… receptive person, especially at this kind of event. So if you could be a dear and go fetch him coffee, that’d be wonderful. He’ll be more cooperative after that. I hope.”

“Oh, um, yes, absolutely. No problem. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Jaskier replies as he fights not to let his smile drop.

“Wonderful! He’ll want an americano, thank you.”

Jaskier nods and heads back upstairs, where Yennefer eyes him with a smirk from behind the checkout counter.

“So I’m relegated to coffee boy now?” Jaskier complains as he grabs his jacket from the back room.

“That’s your punishment for being late. Hurry up, Buttercup.”

He sticks his tongue out at his smug-looking boss, and unlocks the glass door to head to the nearest cafe.

*

The bookshop is open and a good part of the queue has made its way inside when Jaskier comes back with a carefully balanced cup of coffee in one hand and a half eaten bagel in the other, which he bought in an attempt to quell the sick feeling in his stomach. His hangover is getting worse and worse as his liver processes the alcohol in his system.

Yennefer discreetly signals him to go to the lower floor with a nod of her head as she gives advice to an elderly couple looking for something to gift their grandchildren for christmas. He skips down the stairs and almost crashes into the people standing there. The room is filled to its maximum capacity, and he makes his way through the crowd with apologetic smiles and hushed apologies, praying for the coffee to stay intact on the journey.

When he finally breaches the cluster of excited fans, Jaskier stops short with a gasp swallowed by the conversations going on in the crowded room.

There, at the table he assembled with swears and hungover-sour sweat just fifteen minutes ago, is seated the most stunningly gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on.

There’s little resemblance with the picture on the promo flags, but it’s definitely him. Long, silvery-white hair tied in a loose braid, a hint of stubble casting a shadow on a jaw sharp enough to cut, and eyes of molten gold. The frown is the same though, and he looks bored out of his mind even though the meet-up has only been going for ten minutes. The only thing that tells Jaskier he is not witnessing a divine intervention is that the man seems so out of his element it’s painful to watch, barely addressing a few words to the fans coming up to his desk with hopeful gazes, writing a few words in their copy of his newest book and sometimes older, cherished novels. 

It’s no wonder there were so many people waiting outside, Jaskier thinks. He wouldn’t even need to have read a word from this author to want to wait under the rain for hours just to see a glimpse of those oh-so-delicious biceps flexing under a dark shirt as the living god that is Geralt Rivia signs book after book.

Once he’s back in his right mind - or as much as he can pretend to be when it takes all of his willpower not to yell to this Apollo of a man to bend him over the table right there and do whatever he pleases with him -, Jaskier waits for the enthusiastic nerd who’s very obviously making the local celebrity uncomfortable with unashamed flirting - even though she looks like she’s barely half his age - to clear the space before taking his place in front of the desk.

Geralt shuffles in his seat, stifling an annoyed groan as he threads thick fingers into his hair. Jaskier feels stupidly attracted to these hands. To every part of this godly figure, actually. He hovers awkwardly in front of the table, unsure of what to say, and when Geralt meets his gaze, it’s definitely a lost cause. He forgets everything, how to talk, what he’s doing here, and, for a split second, even his own name. 

Those golden eyes are  _ sinful _ , so nuanced it looks like the irises are shifting in the light. The bored look makes them half lidded and lazy, and Jaskier can easily imagine how that look would fit a lazy morning in bed after a night of passionate sex.

“Do you… want me to sign that?” a low, gravelly voice asks him dubiously as Geralt points at the cooling cup of coffee in his hand, and Jaskier almost whimpers.  _ Gods, give me a break _ , he thinks. He can’t handle the level of horniness this man is subjecting him to.

Clearing his throat, Jaskier replies with a weak voice: “No, um, actually, that’s for you.”

The writer raises a doubtful eyebrow.

“I’m not supposed to accept any food item from fans, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, I’m not a… I work here actually? Your manager, um, Triss, she sent me to get you coffee.”

Geralt gives a dark look to his manager, who’s standing a few feet away and tapping intensely at her phone, before meeting Jaskier’s eyes again.

“I can get my own coffee” he growls in a somewhat petulant manner.

_ Handsome, but an asshole _ , Jaskier falters.  _ That’s just my luck. _

“Well, that’s nice. I can go back to work then,” he replies dryly, and sets the cup down on the table with more force than necessary before turning on his heels and leaving the queue of adoring fans to the inevitable disappointment of meeting the utter prick that is Geralt Rivia..

*

The rest of the day stretches into an unending torture as the remnants of Jaskier’s drunkenness shift into a full blown hangover. He longs for his bed, void of a sweaty, equally drunk partner this time. A persisting headache burrows itself at the back of his skull, and his dehydrated brain feels like it’s shrinking under the artificial light of the shop. Yennefer seems way too satisfied whenever a loud noise or a sudden motion makes him groan in agony, and he promises himself to never drink before a work day again.

The crowd dwindles after a couple of hours as the meet-up draws to its end, and the regular flow of customers goes back to its usual pace. Triss comes up to the first floor to talk about the next day’s program with Yennefer, and Geralt follows a few minutes after her, his walk back to the front door regularly interrupted by fans trying to engage in conversation, which he clearly wants to escape from, replying with forced smiles and barely concealed pleading glares towards Triss, who completelly ignores him.

Finally, he makes his way over where Jaskier is trying his best to stay in a standing position behind the counter. The look he gives Triss is similar to the one Jaskier has seen on children waiting for their parents to stop talking with the friend they met in the toilet paper aisle of the grocery store.

The two men stand awkwardly facing each other for a moment, Jaskier both not wanting to put the asshole at ease and fearing to open his mouth least something unpleasant escape his turmoiled stomach.

When it’s clear Jaskier won’t be the first to speak, Geralt sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry for earlier. I’ve been a jerk. I’m not uh… very comfortable at this kind of event. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“No, clearly you shouldn’t have” Jaskier replies petulantly, but he already feels mollified by the apologies. The man is clearly not at ease in this sort of situation, and the whole hulking-but-awkward thing is really doing it for Jaskier. “What are you going to do about it?”

He’s afraid he’s taken it too far when Geralt gives him an indecipherable look, but the writer huffs and a hint of a smile quirks the corner of his mouth in the most enticing way.

“Hmm,” he hums, and Jaskier’s knees almost give in under his weight. “How about I give you a signed copy of my book?”

Honestly, Jaskier would have preferred an invitation for coffee, but he doubts Geralt is on the same page as he is, so he takes a thoughtful expression before replying.

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in reading your book?”

He means it as a tease, but he must have been too subtle - and he has  _ never _ been accused of being subtle - because Geralt seems taken aback.

“I don’t, uh… I could pay you back for the coffee?” he stutters, and starts digging in the pockets of his black denim jacket. “I know I have change somewhere…”

“No, no!” Jaskier interrupts him, flailing his hands to try to stop Geralt’s guilty fussing. “I was just joking. I’d love to get a copy of your book.”

After a second of confusion, a relieved look blooms on the living marble sculpture that is Geralt’s face. “Oh, okay.” Digging into his backpack, he fishes out one of the books Jaskier has sold all day long, a white hardcover with the title in red taking most of the space, except for the author’s name in a more modest size, and a few bloody stains that look like footsteps in the snow.

“What’s your name?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier considers going all out in the flirting attitude, but he has a feeling Geralt wouldn’t welcome that. He’s not even sure the man swings that way.

“I’m Jaskier, at your service” he curtsies, as low as the counter and his queasy stomach allow him, and when he straightens back up Geralt is closing the book with an amused smirk.

“Nice to meet you, Jaskier. I’m Geralt.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s written like… everywhere” Jaskier points at the numerous posters and flags with Geralt’s name on it, and then at the book cover.

“Yeah, you’re right” Geralt answers sheepishly. “Well, I hope you’ll like the book. And, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah” Jaskier breathes. “I’ll be right here.”

“Perfect.” Geralt smirks, before making his way out the front door.

_ Please tell me you wrote your number, please tell me you wrote your number _ , Jaskier pleads mentally as he scrambles for the book and opens it to the first page. There, in a barely decipherable handwriting, is a very short note, followed by a scribble that must pass for Geralt’s signature.

**To Jaskier,**

**thanks for the coffee**

To say Jaskier is disappointed is an understatement, but he doesn’t let that discourage him. After all, he still has a day to conquer Geralt Rivia.

*

The next day Jaskier arrives at work ten minutes early, but Yennefer doesn’t even remark on it except for a raised eyebrow at the severely dark eyebags he is sporting. It doesn’t have anything to do with his hangover though, which has thankfully left him alone after a short night of sleep. As he gets older it is harder to recover from parties, and two day long hangovers have become regular occurrences.

“You know that just because you’re here early today doesn’t mean I forgive you for yesterday.”

“Of course not, Yennefer. I wouldn’t dare accuse you of having a heart.”

“Fuck you Pankratz. You still look like shit. If you tell me you went out last night too I swear I’ll pour rat poison in your fucking hipster vegan chai latte.”

“Rude. It cost me 5$. You don’t pay me enough for me to afford another one today.”

“Then get to work. We received Gardner’s order.”

Jaskier sighs. He hates registering new arrivals. Everyone hates registering new arrivals. That’s why Yennefer always makes him do it. At least he’ll get to play with the labelling gun. He likes the labelling gun.

The pile of books to register has barely diminished when Geralt and Triss arrive. The manager gives him a wave and a smile, and Geralt follows her gesture and nods when he notices him. Jaskier tries to give him his most charming smile, but the man has already looked away to talk with Yennefer.

Oh, well. The day is not over yet.

*

  
  


The day is over  _ incredibly _ fast.

Jaskier curses time for being so unreliable. After registering and labelling the new books, he is charged with putting them on the shelves and making sure everything is in the right spot in general, which brings him to the lower floor. He lingers there, pretending to reorganize the display stand where his and Yennefer’s favourite fictions are showcased so he can take a peek at the meet up area. Geralt and Triss are kept busy by the constant stream of fans, and now Jaskier pays attention to it, it’s obvious Geralt is uncomfortable, rather than rude.

It’s endearing, really, but as much as he wants to, Jaskier can’t do anything to save him from this situation. It has become quite clear that Triss is a ruthless manager despite her kind and friendly demeanor, which explains why she’s one of Yennefer’s friends. She’s bossing Geralt around with no regard for his looming figure or death glares that could compete with Yen’s. It’s quite funny to witness, and Jaskier almost knocks a stack of books over while he spies on the scene. The movement catches Geralt’s attention, and he grins, just a small, secretive smile, as Jaskier replaces a rather expensive edition of  _ Jane Eyre _ , one of Yennefer’s favourites. 

Of course, because of the lack of sleep, the sight of this adorable half-smile causes Jaskier’s lust-crazed brain to seize, and his mortifying reaction is to wave. Like an imbecile.

This seems to amuse Geralt greatly, at least. Jaskier would count it as a win if the author wasn’t laughing at  _ his _ expense.

A tap on the shoulder from Triss diverts Geralt’s attention away from Jaskier, and the shop employee retreats shamefully back into safer grounds.

The meet up ends some time later, without Jaskier having had any chance to approach Geralt again. The fear of missing his chance to at least  _ try _ and befriend the man is overpowering. He knows his friends would say he is way too invested in this, but he just  _ feels _ it in his gut. He and Geralt are connected by more than pure lust.

That’s why, when the meeting wraps up and Geralt climbs up the stairs with a tired expression to head to the door, Jaskier throws all caution to the wind.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to repay me for that coffee, after all.”

It’s honestly one of his lamest attempts at flirting, but it at least has the merits to stop Geralt right in his tracks.

“What, did you lose the book already?”

“Is that what you think of me?” he gasps, placing a hand again his chest in mock outrage.

“Hmm. That’s what Yennefer says about you.”

“Aww, you talked about me?”

The blush spreading on Geralt’s neck and ears is rather fetching, and a good sign, but Jaskier takes pity on him and sets the conversation back on track.

“No, actually, I still have the book. But I’m afraid I couldn’t read until the end.”

“I wouldn’ expect you to read it in less than a day,” Geralt says, clearly confused.

“Well, I work in a bookshop, dear heart. It wouldn’t do to be a slow reader. I must be able to give good advice to the customer, after all.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well, you see, I quite struggled to fall asleep after reading half of it. I really don’t think I’m made for this kind of book.”

“Ah, I see. Did you stop after Declan brings Paul and Rita to his childhood home?”

Jaskier shudders.

“I couldn’t get past that horrid basement scene. Really, what is going on inside your head?”

“I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

“I really do, though.”

“Huh” Geralt seems quite surprised by that, but doesn’t pick up on it, and Jaskier can feel he’s embarrassed, so he scrambles to change the subject.

“You must tell me though: do Declan and Paul end up together?”

“Ah, no, not really. They just stay friends.”

“Oh, really?” he almost whines. “They have such good chemistry! I kept reading way past my limit of fear in hope we’d see them get together.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah! I mean, obviously Declan has a lot of trauma to deal with, but I’m sure Paul would be patient enough to help him through it. And they have such an interesting dynamic! I am just  _ weak _ for the sunshine one and the grumpy one trope. I was so sure there was something between them…”

“Well… I kind of planned it that way at first, but um… I was kind of worried a gay romance wouldn’t really please my audience. I am a horror writer after all.”

“Are you kidding me? At least half of the people who came at your signings were young adults, and I’m pretty sure a good part of them were queer. Who doesn’t want a gay romance in a horror novel anyway?”

“Hmm… I’ll think about it for the next one then.”

“Please do. Maybe I’ll be able to read the whole thing with the promise of  _ at least _ a gay kiss. And, you know, without one of them dying horribly in the end. But for now, I think I’ll have to settle for fanfiction. I’m pretty sure there’s already a good number of them out there.”

“Oh, well, maybe if um… romance is more of your taste, you’d prefer some of my… less known works.”

“Oh really? I thought you only wrote horror?”

Actually, Jaskier is  _ sure _ Geralt only writes horror. He skimmed every wikipedia page and fan blog about the man he could find when it became clear he wouldn’t find sleep after reading the truly nightmarish novel.

“Yeah, I don’t publish the rest, it doesn’t really fit my trademark. I write under a pseudonym. Maybe you could give me your number, and then I can send you a link?”

Jaskier very much  _ does not _ jump in glee, and barely suppresses a victorious smile as his heart kicks in his chest.  _ Fucking finally _ . It’s never taken him so long to obtain someone’s number, unless they really weren’t interested. But he recognizes the glint in Geralt’s eyes, and knows that if he plays his cards well, he’ll have the fucking living god in his bed before the end of the week.

And hopefully for many years after that.

“Well, if you swear there are no ghosts involved, I guess we could do that.” he smiles, leaning closer to Geralt without a care for the counter digging into his ribs. 

  
  


*

After work, Jaskier stops at Tesco to buy a bottle of his favourite wine, and what he needs to make nachos for dinner.

Once home, he takes a shower, listens to a podcast while he cooks, then eats the decadently cheesy meal in front of an episode of Queer Eye.

And then, after putting his dirty plate in the dishwasher, he uncorks the bottle, pours himself a generous glass of wine, and picks up his phone.

A text notification has been waiting for a little while, and he takes his time to open it, like he’d unwrap a Christmas present. The number is unknown, and there are two messages, the first one with a link, and the other one saying **: I hope this one won't keep you up all night.**

He smiles, clicks on the link, and stares in stunned amazement as it opens a Wattpad page.

The background pic shows two shirtless men sporting rather well defined abs, wrapped up in what seems to be a pretty intense kiss. Underneath it, the title,  _ Lose Your Soul Tonight _ \- as cheesy as the hundred similar stories he’s ever read before - and the name of the author besides the little picture of a snarling white wolf: Roger E. Bellegarde.

A brief look at the first few lines confirms his suspicions: this is a fanfiction about Geralt’s last book’s main characters. Written by Geralt  _ himself _ . The names are different, but the dynamic and the voices of the characters are very obviously the same.

“Oh, Geralt. I hope you’re partial to a spring wedding,” he breathes to himself as he scrolls down the page, eyes widening as he skims over rather…  _ steamy _ snippets of the fic.

Going back to the texts Geralt sent him, his thumb hovers over the screen for a while before he registers the contact under  _ Roger E. Bellegarde _ with a smirk, and then sends a daring reply before he loses his nerves.

  
**I think it will keep me up all night long, actually** **😉**

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've liked this absurd little thing. It was very fun to write as a break from my other, bigger WIPs, and I'd love to read your comments if you enjoyed it. Have a good day, and please consider giving the lovely [biancarambles'](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biancarambles/pseuds/biancarambles) fics a read, they're fluffy, funny, and just what you need to warm yourself up on a cold late autumn evening.
> 
> I stole the title of Geralt's Wattpad fic from one of Dead Man's Bones' songs, Lose Your Soul. It has spooky vibes and Ryan Gosling singing, so it's worth a shot if you're into that sort of things like me.


End file.
